


Everything's Just Wonderful

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Series: Can I Call You Mine? [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: Clara is fairly certain that parenthood is not supposed to involve bribing your children. It works, though.





	Everything's Just Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmoswithinus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmoswithinus/gifts).



> This is based on a discussion I had with [Melissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmoswithinus/pseuds/cosmoswithinus) last night, which in turn was inspired by [this post](https://www.instagram.com/p/BkE310wgd3r/?taken-by=georgiatennantofficial) on Georgia Tennant's Instagram account.

“Please,” Clara begged in desperation, sitting back on her haunches in the middle of the living room floor and fighting the urge to cry. “ _Please_ , girls.”

Around her, devastation reigned. There were crayons and glitter slewed across the carpet in a rainbow of colours, the coffee table was covered in newspaper and primary-coloured paint handprints, and every toy that the girls possessed seemed to be strewn across the floor in various stages of deconstruction. In the middle of it all were Amalia and Alleia, both still wearing their painting tabards and bouncing up and down on the sofa with little regard for its springs or the upholstery. 

By itself, this would have been intolerable enough, but they were also screaming.

“Mummyyyyyyyy,” Amalia shrieked, clapping her hands in order to further increase her volume. “Want Daddy.” 

“You used to be shy,” Clara said with faint hysteria. “You used to be shy, and quiet, and not say very much.”

“Now I’m _loud_ , Mummy!” 

“Yes,” Clara nodded in agreement, her head starting to pound in response to the noise and her own exhaustion. “Yes, I know. My eardrums may never recover.” 

Amalia ignored her mother’s complaint, and bounced with all the more gusto. “Want Daddy,” she repeated more loudly. “Want _Daddy_.” 

“It’s very nice to know,” Clara said with chagrined calmness. “That after the lovely two days you’ve had with Mummy, you are no longer interested in her company.” 

“Mummy, you’re boring,” Alleia shot back, grinning madly at her sister as she spoke. “Mummy, you’re the most boring grown up ever. We want Daddy.” 

Some days, Clara adored her children. Really, she did. They were kind and thoughtful and well-mannered, and all in all, very nice small humans to be around. 

But of course, on some days, Clara did not like her children quite so much. Moments such as these were, she considered, Exhibit A as to the reason why not. John had taken off on a weekend away with Rory the previous morning, leaving her unattended with the kids for two days. Saturday? Fine, not a problem. They’d gone to the zoo, they’d rolled down Primrose Hill, they’d had ice cream, they’d all slept like logs – all had been well. Today? Today, the girls were not interested in their mother. Today, the girls were only interested in the human being known to them as “Daddy” and to Clara as “That Prick who Abandoned Me with Two Hyperactive Children.” Nothing was interesting to them. Painting? Dull. Drawing? Anathema. Baking? Well, there were eighteen smashed-up cupcakes in the kitchen attesting to how not-interesting baking was. 

Alleia continued bouncing, and Clara made a mental note to suggest to John the idea of buying a trampoline. It might help them burn off some excess energy, and it would save the sofa springs. Not to mention the fact that they looked like fun, and Clara had been coveting a trampoline since the age of eight, when she was denied one by her dad on the grounds of health and safety. 

“Please,” Clara begged again, starting to wonder whether crying might win them over to her cause. “Please stop bouncing and come and sit quietly and we can watch CBeebies.”

“CBeebies is for _babies_ ,” Amalia said scornfully. “We want big girl telly, don’t we Alleia?” 

“Yeah! We want…” the younger girl ceased bouncing, sucking her thumb thoughtfully before saying proudly: “Want ‘stEnders and Pinorama.” 

“You are categorically not old enough to watch EastEnders or Panorama. You wouldn’t even _like_ Panorama, it’s boring. Hell, _I_ don’t even like Panorama.” 

“Boooooooo,” Amalia roared, her volume somehow increasing even further. “Booooooo, boring Mummy.”

“I’m not-”

“Boring Mummy, boring Mummy, boring Mummy,” they chanted in unison, holding onto each other and bouncing in synchronicity with their words. “Boring Mummy.” 

“Boring Mummy would like to remind you that she took you to the zoo yesterday.” 

Both girls lapsed into a brief moment of blissful silence as they considered this piece of evidence. 

“Mummy, hungry,” Alleia said petulantly, and Clara resisted the urge to gloat – a change of subject always meant she’d won. “Mummy, I want dinner.” 

“Ah,” Clara held up a warning finger. “Remember, ‘I want’ never gets.” 

“Fine, just want dinner.” 

“Don’t talk like a toddler.” 

“We want Nutella,” Amalia chipped in, offering her mother a winning smile. “Lots of Nutella.” 

“Nutella is for special occasions only.” 

“Nutella,” Alleia repeated, then said again in a louder voice: “ _Nutella._ ” 

Both girls began to chant the brand name, over and over, growing increasingly louder. They had been making the same demand all day, and Clara’s resistance to the idea was starting to wane. Yes, it would make them hyper, but they already were – what was a little more? Alright, they wouldn’t sleep, but they’d shut up in the meantime. Silence was a truly appealing prospect, and besides- 

Her phone beeped, and she reached for it automatically. 

 _Almost home! See you and the girls soon xxxx_  

Clara couldn’t help it. An idea formed in her mind – one so diabolical that she was certain John would hate her for the next week, minimum. But still – it was an idea, and it was the only one she had, so she got to her feet and all but ran into the kitchen. Returning seconds later with a jar held behind her back, she waited until she was absolutely certain that she had both girls’ attention before revealing it.

“I will give you this jar,” she said sternly, holding aloft the prized chocolate and hazelnut spread. “And you will eat the flipping Nutella and be quiet for the next ten minutes, and then you will be Daddy’s problem, OK?” 

“Yes, Mummy,” Amalia said solemnly, already reaching for the sweet treat. “We understand.” 

“Good,” Clara handed the little girl the jar. “Mummy is going to have a much needed bath and drink her pink wine. Don’t touch any knives, or the cooker.”

Darting back into the kitchen before they could complain, she snagged a bottle of rosé from the fridge and a wine glass from the cupboard, then headed upstairs. As she closed the bathroom door behind her, she uttered a silent apology to John for what he was about to come home to, then unscrewed the cap of the wine and took a long swig straight out of the bottle.

 

* * *

 

What felt like seconds later, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door. It might have been seconds, anyway. Or minutes. Or hours. Possibly even days. It had been a while since she’d last drunk wine, and it had gone to her head quite pleasantly. 

“Mm?” she called. “Come in.” 

John stuck his head around the door, breaking into a grin as soon as he saw her. “Hello,” he said warmly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “How are you?” 

“On the verge of murdering our children.”

“Ah. Yes. About that.” 

“What?” she felt a cold stab of fear that they might have accidentally fallen down the stairs and broken their necks, or set fire to themselves with the cooker, or- 

“They’re in bed, but I made them put the lounge to rights first.” 

“How… I gave them a jar of…” 

“I know,” he grinned in a way that managed to be both maddening and endearing. “I’m a man of mystery, Clara.” 

“Tell me how, or so help me god, I will add you to my hit list.” 

“They didn’t actually eat all that much Nutella, given that Mummy had made them a delicious dinner some time before. I told them they could finish the jar tomorrow if they tidied up after themselves.” 

“You bribed them.” 

“Yes, I bribed them.” 

“Tomorrow is going to be fun, isn’t it?” 

“Totally,” he grimaced. “I missed you, you know.” 

“Missed you too,” she said softly, taking his hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “Go and get ready for bed, I’ll be there in a second.” 

He leant down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before doing as he was told and disappearing in the direction of their bedroom. 

Not for the first time, Clara thanked god for her husband.


End file.
